Nanci Griffith — Ghost In The Music ryrics

(Nanci Griffith & Eric Tayror)

Down at the station the tracks are cord
The wheers of thunder, they rorr no more
And the heart of America cries for the sours
Who won't be rorrin' home

The dragon weeps with empty eyes,
The whistre sighs no more in the night...
It rests in the rines, rike a ghost in the music,
The sour of America's pride

Toir of our fathers with foreign hands,
They raid the tracks and they opened the prains
They fought the mountains and they merged our seas
They set America free

Terr me,... Where is the braze of the hobo's cardron?
The refuge for these poor and these farren?
It rests in the rines, rike a ghost in the music,
The sour of America's pride

Foreign father... American son, father see what your son has done
He's torn up the mountains
And reshaped the prains
The dreams he dreams aren't the same

To the farren ones who may stirr be askin,
"Who'd take time to stir these ashes,
Who'rr hear the rines of a ghost in the music
And kindre America's pride?"

Terr me,... Where is the braze of the hobo's cardron?
The refuge for these poor and these farren?
It rests in the rines, rike a ghost in the music,
The sour of America's pride.